Brown Eyes
by B R E A T H E- M E- IN
Summary: And take you old girl with her new tricks, it's no surprise that I got lost in your brown eyes.


She sat down on the carpeted floor outside his door again (because it wouldn't feel like the day was normal unless she did it) and waited. She knew what he was doing (_who_ he was doing) but she didn't care. He would walk out with rumpled up clothes and messy hair, and she would leave with him with her hair in a sloppy ponytail and her shirt on backwards, they would make up some lame excuse about how they were 'wrestling' (so that's what they're calling it these day) and she would nod and smile. Because she was so fucking pathetic she couldn't even break up with him and let her have him. No, he was hers and she needed him. He was the closet thing to love, and goddamit, she needed the love more.

_**(Yeah, she was pathetic)**_

--

He knew she knew. He didn't even try to hide the pink lip gloss that stained his checks anymore. But she continued to pretend she knew nothing, even when she had the _nerve_ to ask her for a condom for her and 'her new boyfriend' (maybe he was her new boyfriend) and she gave it to her. It would hurt too much if she got pregnant. She did get her satisfaction though. When in the halls she would hungrily grab his face while she was standing right there, or when he would give her that _look._ The look of pure, untainted love (or maybe it was tainted pity).

--

She started purging about two months after she found out. It was her way of coping (all she could do was cope after all). The months grew long, the days became meaningless. All she knew is she had to become skinny. He would want all of her then. The greediness she felt for him overwhelmed all of the hunger and pain (she was so pathetic). He never noticed her _now_, so being caught wasn't a problem. The problem was her (that had to be the answer, right?).

She stared at herself in the mirror and got disgusted.

She was fat. She was ugly. She was _unlovable._ Her hair was the same flat brown it had always been, her cheeks now were a pale reminiscent of pink, and her eyes showed how lonely and broken she felt.

Maybe if she was more like _her_ he would want her. Maybe… (Maybe if she was less pathetic) if she changed. He could love her again. It was possible.

_**(She would never **_**really**_** change.)**_

--

She walked into school on Monday wearing skinny jeans that was just a size too tight and a pair of old beat up chucks she usually wore for painting with Spencer. Now, it was being used to impress him. She borrowed one of Spencer's penny tees that said 'Bad Ass' (it was just as cliché as she was).

They were by her locker again. They were always by her locker. Giggling, flirting, and smiling. It made her stomach churn whenever they saw her coming and jumped back from each other (it made her sicker whenever she smiled and pretended she didn't notice). As she approached, she could him turn and look at her, studying her new look. Studying her with a ridiculous smirk like he _knew_ what she was doing and was amused by it. She could almost picture them laughing it up later about how foolish she looked.

Yeah, she never made it to her locker.

--

She still talked to her. It was hard, but she lived on challenges. It was her thing. It gave her a sense of accomplishment that she got from nothing else. And if anything, still speaking to her was an accomplishment like no other.

It was still hard though. Speaking to her. It was forced, and choppy, and just all around awkward, especially when there was all of them together.

But she did it. Not because she had to. Because in some sick way, she still wanted to.

--

It was about a year later when _he_ broke it off. It was messy and involved a lot of tears, but yet, it was over (just like her). She quit a lot of her clubs, iCarly went south for a while seeing as he was to busy with _her._ The prom was coming up and of course she was alone. Not because nobody wanted her, it was just it wouldn't be fair to any guy to have them buy broken goods. She was the definition of broken good. She walked the halls with an aura of loneliness with her, people knowing just to stay away (because who really wanted to deal with her?). She stopped being her friend way before the break-up, and that was just fine with her.

--

Prom night she decided to go just to get _over_ him. She found the perfect red and black dress and put on all her make-up, trying to pretend it could cover up all the bad things that have happened to her. He stood outside smoking a cigarette (when the hell did that habit start?) and smirking. She would ignore him, would pretend he wasn't even… "Hey." He said, inhaling yet another drag. "Freddie." She said, politely nodding her head. She walked past, feeling sick to her stomach. She still loved him.

_**(And the fact she knew he knew that made her sicker.)**_

--

A mixture of sweat and alcohol invaded her lungs and made her forgot how in the hell she got here in the first place. She of all people didn't belong in this crowd of dancing people, _happy _dancing people, she would stick out like a sore thumb. She turned to leave when she felt a hand grip her arm. Thinking it was just another dude trying to hit on her, she turned to turn him down. No. It was her. The object of all her disdain for the past year stood in front of her, very sad and looking very heartbroken. "I'm pregnant." Was all the girl whispered before the other girl shook off her hand and burst into laughter. Tears poured down her eyes as she griped her sides, fearful she might break, fearful all the pain and heartbreak would choose _this_ moment to shatter her into a million and one pieces. The other girl smoothed out her dress and glared. "Carly. It's not funny." She said, clenched teeth. Carly just shook her head and grabbed the girl's hand, leading her into the nearest restroom, still giggling. When the two girls got there, Carly slid down on the floor and looked up, face flushed and hair flat from the sweat that now poured down her face because she was laughing just that hard. "You sure? I mean, I'm pretty sure I know it's his, but are you one hundred percent positive?" She said, hand covering her mouth to stop the laughter. "Yes. Why the fuck are you laughing?" The girl snapped, looking down fiercely at Carly. Before Carly had the chance to answer, another girl walked in, and double took at the scene before her. "Is everything ok? Did I interrupt something?" The third girl asked, looking between the two. "No no. Come on in Sam." Carly said, waving her best friend in. "Ok then… Hi Wendy…" Sam said, looking at Carly like she was crazy before walking into a stall. "Whatever… I gotta go call Freddie. See you." Wendy said walking out of the bathroom in a huff. The reality then settled in for Carly. The baby was Freddie's. She didn't have a chance with him anymore. The tears came again and she sat on the floor crying, much to the dismay of her best friend who soon came out of the stall and found her crying her eyes out. She had no more fairytale. Things weren't perfect. The walls she had built had all been destroyed and she hadn't noticed until this moment. And no matter how much laughter she could get out of the predicament Wendy was in, it wasn't enough. Because now, she had to rebuild _everything_. And that scared the shit out of Carly. "What the fuck is wrong with you!?" Sam demanded, shaking her a little. Carly just shook her head and laughed. "It must have been those damned brown eyes. I just got a little bit too lost in them."


End file.
